


better still, be my winding wheel

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sixth Form, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, like a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:44:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au where harry may or may not have a crush on pretty boy</p>
            </blockquote>





	better still, be my winding wheel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [b0yfriendsinl0ve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/b0yfriendsinl0ve/gifts).



> Just the basics: I know nothing, I own nothing. This is just a work of fiction.
> 
> A huge shout out to Allesandra for betaing this at the last minute! You're the bestest :)

 

**better still, be my winding wheel**

Harry walks into the classroom to find a boy who’s definitely not him sitting in his usual spot.

The boy has his head down and a thick book in his hands. His hair is caramel coloured, his fringe falling down and covering his eyes. Something about the way he sits, hunched over the desk instead of lounging back on his seat like most teenagers do, transmits a type of shyness that isn’t exactly repelling, but that demonstrates he’s not interested in putting his attention into anything but the book he reads fast, if the speed in which he flips pages is anything to go by. Harry’s sure he’s never seen this boy before, and that’s a given because in a school so selective, everybody knows everybody, and Harry’s used to the same old faces ever since he was a toddler.

His eyes scan the classroom which is mainly empty save by him, the boy and Jade who’s sitting at her usual spot in the first row. The school genius, the prodigy, it’s no surprise that she’s the only student to willingly take a seat right in front of the teacher – except, maybe, for that Malik boy, but that’s because he doesn’t talk to anyone, while Jade is popular because she’s smart. She’s also Liam Payne’s girlfriend, so there’s that.

After quickly considering the pros and cons, Harry goes to sit next to the girl and is greeted with a blinding smile. Jade is the kind of person that lights up every room she walks into with her genuine beauty. It’s hard not to look twice at her when she walks past you, even if she’s wearing her thick black framed glasses and with messy hair.

“Jade, how are you today, love?” Harry asks, kissing both her cheeks as he sits down.

“I’m good, thank you.” Her accent is strong and the speed in which she speaks sometimes makes it even harder for anyone to understand what she’s saying. Years of friendship taught Harry how to understand her – also the fact that she’s dating his best friend, so he’s forced to try harder than he would usually bother. “Pretty boy’s taken your seat, yeah?”

Harry chuckles. “You’ve seen his face?”

“Yep,” the girl nods, running her hand through her blue hair. “He said good morning and everything. I already like him more than I like half of the boys in this school.”

Shaking his head, Harry reaches for his bag, taking his notebook out. “Don’t let Liam hear you say that.”

Jade huffs and whatever she’s about to say is interrupted by the bell signalling the start of the first class. The room starts filling up with people and their loud chatter. He waves to a couple of guys from his lacrosse team and shrugs when they silently ask him why he’s not sitting at the back.

Turning around in his seat, he sees Pretty Boy sighing and putting away his book – Jade was right; the boy _is_ pretty. His blue eyes remind Harry a little bit of Niall – except Pretty Boy’s eyes are not as light as his friend’s but shine just as bright. His cheekbones make Harry want to press his thumb against them to see if they feel as prominent as they look like and his jaw gives Harry an itch to press his lips against it, maybe bury his face in the crook of his neck to see if he smells of cologne or something sweeter.

Pretty Boy meets his eyes for a moment, questioning, and Harry turns around, feeling a blush spread on his cheeks. He’s already in too deep and he doesn’t even know the boy’s name. Well, he does have a track record of developing crushes two minutes after exchanging greetings with them. Except he has no idea what the boy’s voice sounds like.

As usual Ed is the last one to walk in, five minutes late and apologising to the teacher. He raises his eyebrows when he sees Harry sitting in the front but takes a seat next to him anyway.

“Why are we – hi Jade.” Ed whispers, waving to the girl who throws him a small smile. “Why are we sitting here?”

Harry leans in, his voice low enough so Ed’s the only one capable of hearing him. “New kid took my seat.”

“You could’ve asked him to sit somewhere else.” Ed points out and Harry feels like smacking his own forehead. Stupid.

“I didn’t think of that.” He admits, pursing his lips. “That would’ve been rude, though.”

Ed does smack his head and Harry groans.

“Sheeran, Styles, it’s admirable that the two of you are interested enough to sit in the first row,” the teacher says staring down at them and Harry finds himself crouching slightly – Mrs. Mills is the main reason he dreads Psychology. “But if the two of you could be kind enough to let me continue with my class, I would appreciate it.”

They both whisper their apologies and when Harry takes a glimpse of the back of the room, Pretty Boy is smiling at him.

//

Harry is hopeful that he might have more classes with Pretty Boy. He scoops his Sociology classroom in search for the boy, hoping that he’s sitting at the back, but Harry finds himself filled with disappointment when he sees that his usual spot is empty and a very sleepy Liam is sitting right next to it. He sighs, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag and walking towards his seat.

“You look like shit and it’s only Monday.” Harry says as a way of greeting the other boy, who only groans and buries his face in his hands.

“Stayed up late last night doing my Economics homework.” Liam replies, his voice muffled by his hands. “And when I called Jade to see if she could help me, she lectured me for almost an hour about how I should’ve started it last week instead of postponing.”

Harry chuckles, sprawling on his seat. “What time was that?”

“Close to two am,” his friend answers, scratching the back of his recently shaved head. “But she didn’t mind the hour as much as she minded the fact that I always procrastinate to get things done. She did help me in the end, though.”

“Of course she did.”

Jade and Liam are the conventional high school sweethearts that everybody knew would end up together ever since they were kids. Even though they’re really different – what Jade has in brains, Liam has in muscles – they grew up in each other’s backyards, so it wasn’t a surprise to anyone in year 10 when they said they were together.  Harry knows that their love and dedication is genuine and that there’s nothing one wouldn’t do for the other, even though Jade spends most of her time lecturing Liam because of his not-giving-a-fuck about school attitude.

“What are you implying?” Liam tilts his head to the side a bit, studying Harry with his warm chocolate eyes.

“That the two of you are sickenly in love and whipped.” Harry rolls his eyes and stretches.

Liam shrugs. “I’m not going to deny that, obviously.”

The two of them look at each other and burst out laughing, remembering that there was a time when Liam was extremely unwilling to acknowledge his feelings. He’s the captain of the school’s football team, he shouldn’t be madly in love with the school’s local genius, except he is and Harry knows he’s not even slightly embarrassed by it.

Harry’s laugh dies in his throat when he looks at the door and Pretty Boy is walking in. He looks disappointed when he notices that all the sits in the back are filled. Sighing, he takes the seat next to Malik and, surprisingly, starts a conversation with the boy after pointing at one of his tattoos. Harry is unreasonably jealous that Zayn Malik got the attention of Pretty Boy while he’s still fighting to find out his name. Of course he could’ve introduced himself in between classes when he saw Pretty Boy sitting by himself in the common room, but Niall was with him and he didn’t want any of his friends to find out about his crush just yet.

If Liam notices his gaping, he’s stopped from commenting on it when Mr. Austin walks into the room wishing the students good morning with an excitement that only he can manage in a Monday. Harry likes Mr. Austin because he manages to make Sociology interesting – or at the very least, bearable.

“I’m trying to understand why every single one of my students looks like they haven’t seen a shower or a hairbrush in a few weeks,” he says, to which a few students answer with weak laughs. “It’s only Year 12 and you guys are already like this? I dread to think what will be of you guys when you start university.”

He walks towards his desk, grabbing a few papers before his eyes fall on Pretty Boy who, even from Harry’s point of view at the back of the room, visibly slouches. Recognition appears in Mr. Austin’s face, his smile growing into a beam.

“Class, I’m sure some of you noticed that we have a new student with us today.” Some people nod and Pretty Boy seems to hunch even more. “It’s my son, Louis Tomlinson, who will be joining us for the rest of the school year.”

Some people look surprised because nobody knew Mr. Austin was a father, much less of a teenager, but Harry is still busy processing the fact that he’s just find out Pretty Boy’s name – no, Louis. It matches him, Harry reckons, what with the name being as posh as Louis looks.

“You can introduce yourselves to him later. For now, let’s talk about the Positivism, which is going to be main topic for the next couple of months,” Mr. Austin starts walking around the room distributing the papers to the students. “Anyone knows when it was developed and by whom?”

A few hands shoot up but Harry is too busy studying Louis. He can’t see his face, but he sees how his shoulders seem to lose a bit of the tension while Zayn Malik talks to him about whatever. At one point, Louis turns his head to the side a bit to whisper in Zayn’s ear and Harry catches a smile in the boy’s lips. It’s endearing to say at least, and Harry is scared with himself for thinking that someone he has yet to talk to is already catching his attention to the point of considering him endearing.

“You okay there, mate?” Liam’s question startles him and Harry forces himself to look away from Louis for a moment. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Harry nods slowly. “I’m fine, just a bit tired.” He says and tries to focus on what Mr. Austin is talking about.

Needless to say, his eyes drift back to Louis in less than a minute.

//

By the time December starts, Harry’s already come to terms that he will probably never muster the courage to go talk to Louis. He tries to convince himself that this is mostly due to the lack of opportunities. The only classes the two boys share are Psychology and Sociology – when Harry arrives at the first one Louis is already sat in Harry’s old spot with a book in his hands and earplugs blasting at a volume that can be heard from Harry’s new seat in the first row. Louis always sits next to Malik in Sociology and the two of them spend the entire class either chatting or paying attention to what Louis’ father has to say.

Of course he could talk to him in the common room in the rare moments Louis is there alone without Malik and Harry without Liam, Niall and Ed, but that would require Harry to actually talk to Louis and he’s sure he would be tongue tied the minute he approached the other boy. Harry is not naturally shy, but the faintest possibility of _talking_ to Louis makes him nervous.

Niall – who only found out about Harry’s infatuation because he’s smarter than Liam and Ed combined and caught Harry gaping at Louis more than once – enjoys making fun of Harry because of his crush.

“I didn’t even know one could pine so hard, mate.” He says one day during their Business Studies class. “I’m torn between wanting you to go talk to him so you can stop suffering or wanting you to remain like this so I can have a guaranteed laugh whenever you stare at Tomlinson like he’s Buddha’s reincarnation or some shit.”

“Shut up.” Harry hisses, not taking his eyes off his book. He knows Niall has a smug look in his face and he’s unwilling to actually see it. “I’m not even a Buddhist, why would I care if Louis is Buddha’s reincarnation or not?”

Niall sighs tiredly and pinches Harry’s arm. Hard.

“What was that for?” Harry asks, rubbing his arm and pouting.

“My point is that the only thing you do is think about that guy.” Harry opens his mouth to protest but Niall shoots him a glare that keeps him quiet. “Just go talk to him, Harry.”

“I don’t even know if he’s gay.” Niall smiles at this.

“If he’s not then you might get yourself another great straight friend.” His voice is more soothing than his usual tone permits and Harry smirks – Harry’s known Niall for the longest and he’s still trying to understand how anyone can be so caring. “But seriously, talk to him. The worst case scenario is your crush on him being crushed completely.”

Harry laughs and, after that, he’s determined to walk up to Louis and try to talk to him about something. Anything.

//

The determination dies the moment he gets home after classes. Nothing extraordinary happened, he just realised it was pretty pointless to feed himself of expectations considering he would never live up to them. Louis scares the shit out of Harry because at the same time he’s always there, at the curly haired boy’s reach, he seems so unattainable Harry finds himself giving up before he even tried.

His mum is in the kitchen cooking dinner with the Super Mum apron Gemma had bought her for her birthday. She has her back to him and Harry tries to sneak in and scare her, but she scoffs and turns around.

“Has anyone ever told you that your footsteps are too loud?” Anne says, all bright smiles and dimples and Harry’s shoulders fall, defeated. He walks towards her, planting kisses to both her cheeks before leaning back against the counter. “What’s wrong? You don’t look good.”

A sigh escapes Harry’s lips and he shrugs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Nothing, just tired.”

Anne purses her lips, picking up the knife and going back to the task of cutting the vegetables. “Does this have anything to do about that boy? What’s his name? Louis?”

Harry gawks at her and doesn’t answer her question – how the fuck does she know about that? He doesn’t remember even mentioning having a crush to neither her nor Gemma. It was something he kept to himself – and Niall, obviously, what with the boy finding out everything about Harry’s life before Harry himself could do it – and his plans didn’t involve telling them anytime soon.

“What? Gemma said Niall told her about it and I was curious, that’s all.” Anne says, recklessly waving the knife around.

The boy is still stuck in the same place, mouth agape as he stares at his mother. Realisation of what she’s just said only sinks down a couple of minutes later and Harry’s filled with indignation and confusion.

“Why the fuck-,” he starts, ducking when his mum tries to hit him with a spoon, calling him out on his language. “Why were Gemma and Niall talking?  Gemma is in Manchester, in uni, and Niall is here. Why would one call the other?”

Anne rolls her eyes. “They talk to each other all the time, dear.”

He stomps out of the room and thinks about ignoring his mum when she asks him where he’s going, but Harry’s not stupid enough to think that it’s the woman’s fault. It’s mainly Niall’s, the traitor.

“I don’t know. I will just walk around or something.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat.

“Be back for dinner.” Anne shouts from the kitchen as Harry opens the front door.

It’s too cold for a long walk, what with it being December, and Harry pulls his coat closer to his body, regretting his impromptu outburst. He knows that Niall and Gemma were a thing during the boy’s Year 10, but he honestly had no idea they continued seeing each other, even two years after that. Niall hadn’t even told him and they see each other _every single day._ He doesn’t remember reacting badly to their fling, but had he reacted in a way that stopped them from trusting him?

Not only that, Niall had told Gemma about his crush on Louis even after the boy had pleaded for Niall to keep it a total secret, but maybe that didn’t include Harry’s sister in the other boy’s point of view.

Harry keeps walking until the cold is too unbearable and sneaks into the first store he sees. He heaves a sigh of relief when he feels the warmth of the store’s heater filling his body. Shrugging off his coat, Harry starts taking in the place – it’s a nice, small record store with LPs hanging on the walls as well as a few musical instruments. It’s really cozy and Harry mentally scolds himself for never bothering to search for a place like this, somewhere he can buy good music without worrying about the chatter of annoying kids and whiny parents that usually fill the city’s megastores.

He’s going through the first row of CDs when someone pulls him out of his daze.

“Excuse me.” Harry knows that voice. He’s only heard it twice in Psychology class, but Harry freezes anyway. “Can I help you?”

The possibility of ignoring the other boy is not even one Harry considers. He just shakes his head furiously, his curls falling down on his face and his cheeks burning.

Recognition flashes in Louis’ eyes and a smile spreads across his face. “Oh, you’re in my Psych and Socio classes, aren’t you? Styles, right?”

Harry nods, opens his mouth and, before he can find anything smart to say, he blurts out, “You sat in my spot in Psychology.”

Louis’ brow furrows and Harry is impressed with his capacity of shitting through his mouth.

“I-I mean,” he’s quick to correct himself though, waving his hands around before he shoves them into his hair, tugging lightly at the strands as if this would make him gather his thoughts. “I-I used to sit at the back and then one day you sat there and I couldn’t sit there anymore.”

“You know you could’ve asked me to switch places, right?” Louis questions and he doesn’t sound irritated – if anything he sounds amused, as if Harry’s discomfort doesn’t faze him. “I wouldn’t have minded at all.”

Harry nods, biting down on his lower lip and stopping himself from saying something even more stupid like how good Louis looks when he’s wearing glasses or how much he feels like running his fingers through his hair just to see if it feels just as soft as it looks.

“Erm, anyways,” Louis drags out, adjusting his glasses with a smirk. “If you don’t need my help I will go back to the register and leave you to whatever you’re doing.”

“Oh, ok, of course,” Harry says, letting go of his hair. “I’m just gonna... go. Mum is waiting. Dinner and stuff.”

He waves goodbye and is reaching for the doorknob when Louis calls him.

“Hey, Curly,” Harry turns around, and Louis has a smug smile on his face. “You’re not exactly subtle with all the staring, you know?”

When he gets home, Anne asks him why he’s so flustered and Harry can’t even bring himself to lie about being cold. He just runs upstairs to his room and groans against the pillow.

//

 

The next day Harry is surprised when he walks into Psychology and Louis is not in Harry’s old seat. He’s sitting in the one next to it instead and he looks like he’s been watching the door because a smile spreads across his face when he sees Harry. The curly haired boy feels his heart fluttering but he ignores it in favour of walking towards the empty seat and sitting down. Louis is wearing his glasses today again and that adding up to the bright smile are enough to make Harry feel slightly dizzy.

“As you can see, I let you have your seat back.” Louis starts, sitting up straighter in his seat, not hunching as much as he used to. “Will you introduce yourself properly then?”

Harry’s baffled by how straight-forward the other boy seems to be, but then again, he remembers that first Sociology class and how Louis and Zayn Malik were already attached at the hip by the end of the first period. He hooks his messenger bag to the back of his chair, giving himself enough time to calm down before he turns back to Louis.

“I’m Harry, Harry Styles.” He offers his hand to Louis and the other boy shakes it.

“Louis, Louis Tomlinson.” Louis mocks, letting go of Harry’s hand and moving his eyes to the students walking into the classroom.

Harry wants to just keep staring at him, taking advantage of how he’s not sitting across the room but instead right next to Louis. He hesitates though, knowing that they are way too close and that would be pushing the matter a bit too much. Harry chooses to watch his own hands instead as he fiddles with the hem of his jumper.

“Can I ask you something?” Louis is the first one to break the silence and when Harry looks up, the other boy has a serious face on.

“Erm, sure?” He replies, unsure of what Louis could possibly want to find out from him.

“When you went to my job,” he starts, throwing his words out there carefully. “Were you stalking me?”

Harry’s eyes widen, shaking his head furiously. Of course he wasn’t, but what if Louis actually thinks that Harry is creepy enough to stalk someone in order to start a conversation with them? He opens his mouth and closes it again, fishing for the right thing to say. Before he can start explaining though, Louis starts laughing. The corner of his blue eyes crinkle and he throws his head back, his hands resting on his stomach.

“Oh my God, you’re so red,” Louis says, and Harry tilts his head to the side a bit, questioning. “I’m just teasing you, Harry.” He explains then, and he’s not laughing anymore, but there’s a huge smile on his face that makes Harry feel warm. “I know you didn’t do that.”

Harry nods, still lost at words. He can still feel his cheeks burning, more out of embarrassment for not being able to realise that Louis was just joking than anything else. His eyes fall down, and he lets out an emotionless chuckle. “I really wasn’t.” Harry whispers, hands clasped together, almost jumping when he feels a hand on his thigh. He looks up and Louis is _there,_ his face a few inches away from Harry’s, his bright blue eyes a lot softer.

“I know, Harry.” Louis whispers back, rubbing his thumb softly against Harry’s thigh. “You’re way too sweet looking to be a stalker,” Harry giggles, his eyes resting on Louis’ hand. “It’s probably the dimples, I reckon.”

Harry inhales, feeling Louis’ sweet cologne. He feels Louis’ everything by now, what with the way the other boy had shifted in his seat so he was facing Harry, his knees overlapping Harry’s thigh. The proximity also brings in Louis’ warmth and Louis’ breath on his face. It would be so easy for him to tilt his head up and press his lips against Louis’, and something tells him Louis wouldn’t mind it all that much.

“Let me make it up to you?” Louis asks, and his voice is like hot chocolate in a cold winter night, filling Harry with heat and comfort. Harry wants to say that there’s nothing to make up to, that he’s not and never was upset with Louis’ words, but Louis beats him to it. “Choose something you want me to do and I will do it.”

Harry considers it for a moment. There’s so much he wants from Louis, but not enough courage fills his body to the point where he’s able to voice his desires. Something crosses his mind and he’s reluctant at first, scared that he might sound too naive and childish.

“Can I walk you home?” He asks anyways and, by the corner of his eye, he sees Louis’ face lighting up even more.

“If you insist.” Louis replies, surprising Harry once again when he moves his hand up to Harry’s, lacing their fingers.

Harry smiles at him and Louis’ grows even bigger.

//

They aren’t together, not really.

They hold hands sometimes at school and they sit next to each other in Psychology and Sociology. Harry finds out that Zayn Malik is actually quite funny and nice to hang out with, plus he doesn’t seem to mind that Harry hogs all of Louis’ attention lately. Later on, Louis explains to him that Zayn spends most of his time texting his girlfriend, too oblivious to the rest of the world.

So they do this thing where they act too much like a couple, while not being one. Harry would care if Louis seemed to, but Louis acts as if it’s everything ok for him. No one minds the two of them, Louis doesn’t have enough friends for them to be curious and Harry’s friends are great to the point where they are just silently waiting for him to confirm or deny anything.

A proof of how they really aren’t together is when Harry appears, unannounced, at Louis’ house on the 24th of December to find Louis with a ‘Happy Birthday’ hat the top of his head and a huge poster with “Happy Birthday Boo-bear” written on it.

“Harry,” he says upon opening the door with a smile, surprise painting his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to give you your Christmas present,” Harry replies, showing to Louis the bag he has on his hand. “You didn’t tell me that today was your birthday.”

Louis sighs, pulling the door open a bit more. “Come in,” he tells him, the smile falling from his face. “Take off your shoes, please.”

Harry does that, putting his shoes neatly next to all the others. Most of them are so tiny next to Harry’s and he remembers that Louis has four younger sisters and that is not something he should be surprised of. What surprises him, though, is how small the house feels on the inside. It’s not the biggest on the outside, yes, but the inside is even smaller. Maybe it’s because of the amount of furniture, that and because of all the members of Louis’ family that are crowding the living room.

“Everyone this is Harry,” Louis announces and some of them turn to wave hello to Harry, but Louis is already pulling the younger boy to the kitchen.

He stops when they reach the doorway and Harry sees Louis’ mum by the sink. The woman turns around and smiles at them.

“Hello,” she says excitedly while holding a wet plate. “You are?”

“I’m Harry,” Harry says, walking towards her and kissing both her cheeks. “Harry Styles, I’m Louis’ friend from school.”

“Oh.” Recognition falls on the woman’s face, but it’s gone before Harry can acknowledge it. “Nice to meet you, honey, I’m Jay.” She turns to Louis then. “Louis, your father called.”

Louis groans, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Did he now?”

“Don’t act like this, Louis.” The woman scolds him, turning back to the dishes. “He put you in a great school, you can’t complain about him at all.”

Harry watches the exchange silently, fiddling with the loose thread of his sweater. Louis told him that his parents got a divorce when Louis was nothing but a baby and that his mother can’t really afford to pay for Louis’ school. He also mentioned that he hates the fact that he feels like he owes his father considering how the man had been the person to get Louis a place in their school, so Harry kind of understands how Louis is reluctant about calling his father.

He walks towards the door, standing in front of Louis. The older boy reaches for Harry’s hand but, instead of lacing their fingers like he usually does, he rests it on his own waist before putting his arms around Harry’s neck. Everything is Louis; the only thing Harry is able to feel is Louis, and he’s not exactly complaining about that.

“Haz?” Louis asks, his fingers playing with the strands of Harry’s hair that rest on the back of his neck.

“Hm?” Harry wants Louis closer and closer until there’s absolutely no more space for them to fill and they have to fit inside each other.

“Look up,” and Harry does, a smile spreading across his face.

“Mistletoe.” He whispers and Louis nods, biting down on his lower lip.

“I guess you will have to kiss me now.” Louis says, tugging lightly on Harry’s hair.

Without missing a beat, Harry leans down, pressing his lips against Louis’. They are soft and wet, probably because of Louis’ habit of licking them whenever he’s about to start talking. It’s slow and languid – they choose to ignore the fact that Louis’ mother is standing there in the same room as them and that the entirety of Louis’ family is filling the rest of the house. It’s just them and Harry realises that it’s the first time that he did something about a crush of his.

When they part, Harry’s giggling.

“Yes?” Louis asks, all soft toned.

“Did you stand here on purpose so I could kiss you?” Harry teases him and Louis rolls his eyes.

“Shut up.” Louis says, standing on the tip of his toes and kissing Harry again, groaning when Harry pulls back again. “What now?” But there’s no hostility in his eyes. Instead, Harry finds something akin to endearment.

“Happy birthday.” He says and kisses Louis before the older boy can tease him for being a sap.

Needless to say, Harry’s grateful for not giving up on this one. Even when Jay literally whacks them on their arms so they can part and help her with serving the food. Even when Lottie, the oldest of Louis’ sisters, teases them mercilessly because they keep throwing each other little smiles across the table during lunch. Even when Jay tells everyone about catching the two of them snogging at the door frame like there was no tomorrow.

It’s all worth it when Louis smiles at him and laces their fingers.

 

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS COMES TO AN END.  
> Cassie: I really do hope you liked it. I know I didn't insert any sort of angst there - I don't know, I think I'm incapable of that - but at least I put Christmas and mistletoe kisses!! It was a pleasure to write this and I really do hope you like it.


End file.
